Thursday, July 12, 2012

At the start of 2008, I was going through a really rough
patch. I had recently left a psychologically abusive relationship with my fiancé,
and an equally damaging rebound, both of who had made me feel like I was an
object, to be used or abused as they liked, relationships that completely eroded
my self-confidence. I’d ditched my former best friend around the same time,
when I could no longer deal with their constant negativity. I lived thousands
of kilometres from my family. The previous semester I had scraped low passes in
two of my uni subjects, and the current was looking as though it was heading
the same way. I would ‘forget’ to eat for 2 days, then spend 3 devouring
anything I could get in my mouth. I was stressed. I felt worthless, guilty of
my misery, suicidal. I was not coping. And I was alone.

I come from a family that has long battled mental illness,
in particular clinical depression. I knew that I had depression, and I desperately
wanted to fight it, but when you’re depressed, there is a part of you that no
longer cares, and unfortunately, most days that voice was the loudest. But one
day, I heard a voice that was louder, and it was the catalyst for a change that
probably saved my life.

I heard an interview with a female athletics champion, model
and actress. She held multiple world records for sprinting and long-jump. In 2007,
she was voted the President of the Women’s Sport Foundation. At 17, she had
been the youngest person to hold top-secret clearance at the Pentagon! I’d
missed the first part of the segment, but as I listened, her words appealed to
me, wrapped me in them, and gave me a much needed whack up-side the head. I can’t
remember the exact words, but to me it was screaming “You just need to do it!
Get out there, do it for yourself, screw what the haters think!” I’m sure it
was much more eloquent that that, but that was what penetrated the fog of
depression. Maybe it was the competitive athlete in me, the side that had seen
me play rep softball, high level gymnastics, attempt every sport my family
could get my butt to, but I grabbed her message by the teeth, and shook it like
a dog with a tug toy. I listened to the very end of the segment, threw on my
runners, and went down to my local gym.

Over the next 9 months, I completely changed. 4-5 days a
week at the gym, for 2 hours a pop, proving to myself that time and effort
invested in myself was worth it. I clawed back my grades at uni, and was
accepted into the lab I am still working for today. I became confident, bouncy,
and stopped worrying about what everyone else thought of me, cause damn it, I
LIKED who I was! I still carry around a photo of the woman who triggered that
change, stuck in the back cover of my dairy, along with the derby legend Bonnie
D. Stroir, because these two women inspire me, deeply. So what triggered me to
write this?

Inspiration: Find it where you can, and carry it with you.Photos: Amiee Mullins by Lynn Johnson, Bonnie D. Stroir by Charlie Chu (HAM, 2012)

The ABC recently published an awesome article by Stella
Young, about inspiration porn, and why people with a disability should not just
be held up as ‘inspirational’ for getting on with their normal, everyday lives (“We
are not here for your inspiration”, 3 July 2012). Whilst I agreed with the
article, in particular the use of children in inspirational pictures, something
about it didn’t sit quite right with me. It took a bit of thinking, and a flick
through my diary to figure out what: the woman whose picture is stuck in the
back of my diary is paraolympian Aimee Mullins.

I know (or rather I hope) that Stella Young wasn’t targeting
people like me, who draw inspiration from someone who has a disability, rather
than BECAUSE they have a disability. For me, it’s not about looking at a picture
with a tacky motivational phrase and thinking “Wow, I’ve got it good”. That
photo of Mullins would still get carried around with me if she hadn’t been born
with fibular hemimelia, because it is her passion, attitude and intelligence
that inspires me, not her 12 pairs of legs. Is that any different from my
respect for the way Bonnie D. Stroir approaches Roller Derby? I follow Stella Young on twitter because
aside from her acerbic wit, I admire her advocacy for the NDIS. Wouldn’t think
that is any different from following Kate
Ausburn because of her tireless campaigning against CSG. I’m sure it’s not
how the article was intended (and probably has more to do with reading the
comments), but it reminded me of the time in school where my brother and I were
told we couldn’t have the same sports heroes, because they were Indigenous, I
was not, and I “should really look up to athletes more like [me]”. Yep, my
adopted brother looked up to Michael Long, Kyle Vander-Kuyp, Nova
Peris-Kneebone, Ronnie Burns, but I should really look elsewhere for my heroes.
Because I’m different. So, I’m going to tell the world what I told that
teacher:

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Introducing...

A student, a scholar, a sucker for punishment. Lives for the dream, and dreams of the life. A daughter, a demon, a victim to vision, an inamorata, a friend. Horrified by the depth of human ignorance and cruelty, but working toward a less horrific future.